


A Scarred Soul May Never be Repaired - Though a Broken Heart May Always be Mended

by Lumiel_lightbringer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse, Angry Dean Winchester, Concerned Dean Winchester, Cutting, Depressed Sam Winchester, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Addict Sam Winchester, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Scared Dean Winchester, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Sam Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Worried Dean Winchester, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-16 07:56:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumiel_lightbringer/pseuds/Lumiel_lightbringer
Summary: "I've fallen, Dean... I've fallen so far... so far into this... deep pit of... of fear and resentment- all of myself that I... I don't- I don't know if I can ever be... Be pulled out? Dean I'm... I think I've fallen so far... I'm so deep into this that I don't think... I don't think you can save me this time, Dean... I think I'm... I'm lost. Forever."Or,After Dean tells Sam he can't be trusted, Sam falls into a deep realm of depression, avoiding his brother at all costs. Dean doesn't seem to notice, Hell, he barely cares, until it's too late, and Sam has a knife on his wrists.





	A Scarred Soul May Never be Repaired - Though a Broken Heart May Always be Mended

~

 

The words replay in my head 24/7. I hear them when I'm awake, when I'm asleep, when I'm drunk, high, or on some other substance in desperate attempts to block out the never ending mantra of Dean's harsh words.

_"I don't think that I can trust you."_

_"You're a monster"_

It never ends. It just repeats. And repeats. And repeats. Until I can only scream my throat raw and scratch my arms bloody. My last fit ended with clumps of hair, skin, and blood piling around my motel bed. 

By now I rarely leave the motel for anything. Well, except for my fix of whatever drug I can find. I've tried it all. Cocaine, Heroine, LSD, Marijuana, MDMA, Crack. Basically, anything illegal, I've had.

And yet none of it has blocked out those torturous words. They plague my memories like a scar, burnt in by my ex-brother. Dean doesn't deserve to have such a failure of a brother, so I haven't called him, or even thought of him as a brother since those words left his mouth.

Because we aren't brothers. Not since I fucked up enough to start the damn apocalypse. 


End file.
